


The One Where John Hates the Taste of Coffee

by liveindenver



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Coffee Shops, Coming Untouched, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock-centric, Top John Watson, Unilock, bottomlock, i actually made them use a condom this time, john has a big dick, look at that, this never happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveindenver/pseuds/liveindenver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a barista.  John is in medschool.</p><p>John comes into the coffee shop one day, and Sherlock is immediately interested in him.<br/>Also, John doesn't like coffee.  What's up with that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where John Hates the Taste of Coffee

“Hey, Sherlock, can I ask you a favor?” That was the last thing I heard before the door opened and seven Bart’s students walked in. Thank goodness. Doctors in training, in dire need of caffeine. Thanking them silently for the brief reprieve I’m getting from Molly’s questioning, I turn to the register, ready to take yet another order.

“What can I get for you today?” I asked with a false smile that I hope is good enough to pass.

“Uhh, three large lattes, one skim milk, small Americano, double shot espresso, large mocha latte with extra whipped cream, and one medium black coffee,” said the guy up front, turning around to double check everyones order, and collect money.

Really, I am a great barista. Please don’t fault me on that, but I just honestly don’t know what this guy just said to me. The guy in the middle of his group, with the sandy blonde hair, caught my attention. He has a blue messenger bag slung across his chest… and boy, let me tell you, it is a nice chest. His eyes, though, are the darkest shade of blue possible. He’s barely paying attention to what’s going on around him. He has a worn out medical textbook in his hands, looks to be something about infectious diseases. How perfect can one person be?

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that please?,” I loathe that I have to ask again, honestly this never happens, but Jesus, look at those eyes.

“Don’t worry, Sherlock, I heard. Can you just get the espresso machine prepped,” Molly says walking up behind me, and truly, at this moment, I am so grateful for her, maybe I should just listen to whatever she started to ask me, after all.

So, I turned around to prep the machine, while surreptitiously glancing up to see the blonde with his head still in that textbook.

I quickly make the drinks, with Molly repeating the order back at me, while trying to plan perfectly so that I can actually hand him his drink; and honestly, when did I start behaving this way? It’s only because I want to see what shade of blue his eyes are from straight on, instead of pointing down at his book. Really, that’s the only reason.

“Medium black coffee,” I say, trying my hardest not to stutter as he walks closer, finally looking up.

“Thanks,” he says with a smile, as he takes his cup, turns around, and grimaces. Huh, weird.

__________

 

“Hey, Sherlock before you go, I just have a quick question for you. I know you usually work the evenings, but I was wondering if we could switch shifts for the next month? My online courses are meeting in the mornings and I really can’t mis-“

“Molly, if I agree right now will you stop talking to me?” Look, I know I’m being kind of harsh, but honestly, Molly doesn’t know when to stop sometimes. Luckily, she just laughs and agrees.

 

__________

 

Here we are, first morning shift for the next month. I’ve been here for two hours and I’ve only had a handful of people in. 5am is too early for this, no one is up to have coffee, yet. I’ve just walked to the back to refill the case of bagels when the door chimes.

The blonde. He’s here again. What am I supposed to do now? Oh. Right.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” I’m pretty sure I just stammered. How pedestrian of me.

“Oh, hi! Just a medium black coffee please. You were the one here the other day. Sorry if we made a big mess when we left. I tried to, you know, pick up a bit. We’ve all got big exams coming up. Med school, you know.”

“Right, yea, that’s, uh, no problem, really. All part of the job. Do you need room for cream?”

“No, I don’t. Thanks,” he said, taking the cup from me. “Slow morning for you?,” he asks while turning his head from me, to the back of the store, while taking a sip. There it is again, another scowl.

“Yea, it’s a bit slow this early, it seems,” I continue the conversation, because I guess we’re just pretending that he didn’t make that face at his coffee. “This is my first morning shift. I actually just switched with a coworker.”

“Oh, wow, that’s really nice. You must be a pretty great guy,” he said.

I mean, really, we’re just ignoring that face? Should I be insulted? I mean, it’s not like I roasted the coffee beans, so I guess not. Wait, what? Did he just say I was great?

“Hey, so, I’ve got to get to class. Are you working the morning shift for a while, or just the day? Because, I mean, this wasn’t the worst way to spend my morning. Maybe I could swing by again tomorrow?,” he really just said this to me. So, what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to be respond to that, because I have the feeling that handing him over a detailed schedule, including all my free time away from work wouldn’t exactly go over well for what it technically our first official meeting.

Instead, I settle for, “Sure.” And I mean, normally I’m much more eloquent than this, but have I mentioned his eyes lately?

“Yea, alright,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee, promptly followed by a frown. “See you then,” he said. Just as he walked out the door, I turned around the see the flap of the trash can swinging closed. Huh, strange.

 

___________

 

The next morning started out much the same. There was a total of three customers in my first two hours, and unfortunately, the blonde wasn’t one of them. I eased my time by practicing deducing the customers that came. Nothing exciting there. To make it a little more challenging, I start deducing from their shoes first. Faces give so much away.

  
The next one that walked in was easy. Simple, practical brown shoes, with vomit still splattered on. They’re a bit old, but well taken care of. That’s not difficult, Bart’s was nearby and the shop was constantly overrun with pre-med students.

  
A face ducked down into my view, just as I was deducing the belt, and it’s - wait, those eyes.

  
Maybe being surreptitious isn’t exactly my specialty, because as I realized who it was, my head jerked up, and there is no way he hadn’t noticed.

  
He’s smirking. Why is he smirking?

  
“Uh, hi. Like what you see?”

  
Oh! Oh! He thought I was checking him out. And I mean, okay, I get where he’s coming from with that, but I wasn’t.

  
“I was just… It’s not what you think. I was deducing you. Well, not deducing you, just whoever happened to come up, and it was you.” I’m rambling on. Let me reiterate, I don’t do this. His eyes, though. Can I just remind you about those blue eyes?

  
“Deducing? What’s that?” He asked me, and he actually looks genuinely interested.

  
Maybe I blush a little as I reply, “I can just observe things. Things that other people don’t pay attention to.”

  
“Deduce me,” he said, lifting an eyebrow, one side of his smile lifting as well.

  
I shouldn’t deduce him, and I know that. This is the point where people call me a freak and then leave. I don’t care about that, either. Honestly, I prefer that. I know that I don’t want him to go, but I can’t deny him of this since he asked.

  
“Well, first I saw your shoes. It’s dried, and barely there, but I see the vomit. That, along with the fact that they are simple and well worn, but still in good condition, show me that you’re a med student. You’ve got loans out, so you can’t afford better shoes, but you take care of them, so I know that you didn’t grow up with much money. I was just looking at your belt when I realized it was you, but it shows me that you’re—“

  
Wait. This is good. This is really good for me. His belt. He’s bisexual.

  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep you, you’re clearly already running late. What can I get for you today?”

  
He looks a little disappointed, and I guess that’s a good thing, but he gives me a smile as he says, “medium black coffee, no room for cream. Thanks.”

  
I don’t know. Maybe I should have mentioned it, but did I need to? He clearly knows he’s bisexual and what would happen if I said it aloud? No, best not to say anything.

  
So, I fill his cup with black coffee, and maybe I’m still thinking about the fact that he’s bisexual, and it’s not my fault if I also observed that he is single. I passed his coffee over the counter, and he smiled again stating, “I am actually running late, though. I really didn’t have to stop by for this, but I wanted to say hey, and tell you to have a good day. So, I really do need to go.”

  
“Oh. Yes, well, don’t let me keep you anymore. I hope you have a good day.”

  
“Bye!,” he calls out as he turns around, taking a sip of his coffee, then promptly glaring at the cup.

  
Honestly, what is his problem with the coffee?

 

_________

 

 

I was turned around, cleaning to espresso machine when I heard that voice. The one that I’ve become accustomed to, saying, “So, I feel like I’ve been in every morning for the past week and I still don’t know your name. Can I get that with my coffee today?”

  
I think this is flirting. I’m pretty sure he just flirted with me.

  
“Only if I can get yours,” I returned with a smile that I knew people liked to see.

  
“I’m John. John Watson.”

  
“John. Nice to meet you, John. I’m Sherlock.”

  
“Just the first name, then? Well, you can use mine, if you’d like.”

  
That was flirting. That was absolutely flirting. I feel flushed, am I blushing? I feel like I’m blushing.

  
“Medium black coffee, no room again?”

  
“Yep,” he said, with a bright smile, truly dazzling on his face. “I, uh, I have this thing on Friday. Well, it’s a rugby game. It’s a big game, and if you’re not busy, maybe you could stop by and we could get some dinner afterward. Like, a date thing.”

  
“A date thing?,” I just had to ask, trying to keep from laughing.

  
“Well, you know, if that’s something you’re into,” he said, pulling his drink up to his face, but lowering the cup before he actually took a sip.

  
“I will be there, John Watson.”

  
Just then the bell on the door chimed, indicating the rush of people walking in, so John turned away, smile still lingering on his face. I kept my eyes on him, and once again, he made another face as he took a sip of his coffee, glowering at the paper cup.

 

__________

 

My room is the one place at my flat that stays clean. The living room, kitchen and everything is always littered with all things imaginable, honestly Mrs. Hudson can account for that, but my room is always clean. Except now. I need to leave in twenty minutes if I’m going to make it in time for John Watson’s rugby game, but my floor is nothing but a scattering of clothing. How am I to know what to wear to John’s rugby game, and then, you know, the date thing afterward. So, here I am, three hours later with nothing to wear. I feel like a teenage girl going on her first date, and I have to mentally berate myself for immediately thinking that I’m not that far off from that. The aubergine shirt didn’t look awful, I suppose, it’s just that, well, it’s rather tight and what does one wear to a sporting event? Honestly.

  
I quickly get dressed, check my hair, that I most definitely did not spent an entire hour on, making sure the curls were perfect, slip on my shoes, and head out the door. I’m nervous. I don’t get nervous. The cab ride is much too short, and before I even realize it, I’m here and there people milling about, and I just want to scream and tell them I’m only here for John, but I guess I should be on my best behaviour.

  
“Sherlock!” Oh, wonderful. Someone is here to witness me, just what I need.

  
“Sherlock, what are you doing here?” Molly asks, and I silently thank some superior being that it’s, at least, Molly, someone I can tolerate. “Here, I have another seat by me! I’ve never seen you here before!” She looks downright ecstatic that I’m here, and I guess this isn’t terrible. Wow. Okay. Definitely not bad at all because John just ran right past me in his rugby uniform and I may not know about sports, but I know that large letter ‘C’ stitched to his jersey means he’s the captain, and wow. I’m staring. I’m aware I’m staring, because John has just seen me staring.

He’s smiling at me, though, and wow.

  
The game happens, and I honestly couldn’t tell you who won, or really, anything about the sport at all, because John Watson is covered in mud, and no one should be allowed to look that amazing covered in mud. “I’m going out to get some pizza with a few people, would you like to come?” I can hear Molly asking me this, but I’m really not paying much attention because John is walking toward me, a smile taking up over half of his face.

  
“Sherlock, I’m so glad you made it!” he calls out, and he looks genuinely pleased that I did. “I’m just going to pop in the shower and we can go, yea?” He takes a few steps forward, leans in close to my ear and whispers, “I couldn’t keep my bloody eyes off you the whole game. That shirt is downright gorgeous on you” and then just walks away like he hasn’t made my entire world come crashing down.

  
I vaguely register that Molly is standing next to me still, jaw dropped down, eyes wide and starting straight at me.

  
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes. That is John Watson! He’s the captain of the rugby team and literally every girl at Bart’s has been begging for his attention for years!” Molly shrieks out, and thank goodness John walks quickly, because maybe he got far enough that he can’t hear her.

  
“Well, Molly. It seems they’re lacking something. A dick,” and with that turn around and head over to the locker room, to wait for John.

  
He makes his way out quickly, and unfortunately, all the mud is gone, but I guess it’s worth it, because his hair is tousled and he smells amazing.

  
“My roommate is actually out for the night, so I thought maybe we could get some takeaway and have a movie night at mine, if that’s okay with you.” John said, and he just looks so hopeful, I don’t think I would be able to deny him.

  
“Sure, that sounds great,” and I’m not even lying, it really does.

 

________

 

 

We pick up Chinese, and take a cab back to John’s flat. It’s not really that far from the coffee shop, thank goodness, because I have to be in at work for 4:30 in the morning. I haven’t told John, yet, because I hate to assume that something will happen, but I mean, I’m obviously hoping it will.

  
We make our way inside, and he pulls a coffee table close to the couch. I’m laying the food out as he wanders around looking for a movie that we can watch. He comes back with four different James Bond movies, and if I wasn’t already sure that he was into blokes, that would have given it away; he’s clearly harboring a massive crush on the character.

  
“So, I’ve got these,” he says holding out the movies, “and it really doesn’t matter which one to me, because I love them all.”

  
“I’ve never seen any of them, so whichever you think I should start with is fine with me,” I said, pulling two pairs of chopsticks out the bag.

  
“What?” he asks, jaw dropped down? “You’ve never seen a Bond movie?” He looks truly disbelieving at this. “I mean, how long do you have? We have to watch them all.”

  
“I’ve got a while,” I tell him with a smile. I don’t want to tell him about work in the morning, because he just seems like the kind of guy that would be overly considerate and would feel guilty for keeping me up later when I have something to do early.

  
“Great. Budge over, make a little room for me,” he says, and really, this is the best thing I’ve heard. I’m sitting on a small loveseat, with barely enough room for two people, and there are still two other chairs around me that he could have sat at. So, I scoot over, but not too much.

  
John put the movie in, and walks back over by him, sitting down and grabbing a container of lo mein. “ I just can’t believe you’ve never seen Bond. He’s my hero.”

  
“Well, thank god I have you here to remedy that for me.”

 

________

 

 

During the first movie, we did nothing more than eat and watch. However, after he put the second disc in, he walked to the kitchen and turned out the light there, which left us with nothing but a small lap on the other side of the sitting area. Once he got back to the seat, he sat a little closer, and before, our thighs were simply aligned, but now, they’re pressed together. Pressed together so hard, that I can feel the heat coming through his jeans and my thick trousers.

  
Twenty minutes in, and I tuck my feet under myself, and lean a little into John. He accepts that gladly, and wraps an arm around me, where my head just naturally falls under his chin. So, now we’re essentially cuddled on this tiny loveseat, and it’s warm and comfortable and—

  
John’s lips just pressed to my head. I could feel it on my hair, and an unbidden sign comes from my throat.

  
I lift my head a little, and find John staring down at me.

  
“Hey,” he says, his voice slightly gruff from not having spoke for a few hours.

  
“Hi,” I say, letting my eyelids slide close softly.

  
My eyes are closed, and that’s why I don’t notice John until his warm lips are pressed against mine. And it’s just so easy to fall into this kiss. The soft slide of his lips against mine, and I can feel his eyelashes fluttering against my cheeks, and a deep rumble coming from his chest.

  
“Mmm,” I groan, as he pushes me back further into the cushions, and I can feel his sturdy weight on top of me and I’m pretty sure this is what heaven would feel like.

  
“You are just so gorgeous. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for weeks,” he says, pulling back from the kiss, and I swear I haven’t been more flattered in all my life.

  
I pull him back down to me, and I’m getting lost in his kisses, and I just want his hands on me, so I tell him. “Touch me, please. John, touch me.” He groans as if this is what he’s been waiting for, and his hands immediately grab onto my waist, and rub hard up my ribs, over my chest, and down my stomach.

  
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but in case you were feeling this, too, I just wanted you to know that I have condoms and lube,” and my knees go weak as he says this, and if I wasn’t sitting down already, I would have fallen straight to the floor.

  
“Yes, oh god, yes,” and I physically push him off me so that he will go get them, because I have never wanted a cock inside of me as bad as I want his in me right now.

  
He stands up, and nearly trips over a stack of books on the floor, and makes his way to his bedroom. I can hear him digging around in a drawer, before a faint “fuck” echoes down the hallway.

He comes skidding back down the hallway, essentials in hand. “Everything okay?” I ask.

  
“Yea, I was looking in the wrong drawer and couldn’t find them fast enough, and dear god, just please let me kiss you again.” So, I let him. And I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Then I flip him over and push him down, to lay on the couch. I grab the lube out his hand, and lay the condom down on his chest for now. I flip the cap of the lube, and pour some into my hand, getting ready to slick up my fingers when John grabs my wrist.

  
“Can I do it, please?” he asks, and who am I to deny him of that? He scoops up the small puddle from my hand and smears it onto his fingers as I lift up to my knees to pull my trousers off.

As they slide down my cock bounces out, it’s flushed red at the tip, and if I think about it for a moment too long, I can feel it throbbing. John’s hand by my arse stops me from sinking back down, and I can feel his fingers caressing me, getting closer to my hole. My bottom lips between my teeth, and my eyelids are closing and he’s barely even touched me, yet. He fingers reach the cleft of my arse, and he strokes down until he finds it. He massages it at first, just relaxing the hole a bit and even this feels amazing. My lip is already starting to hurt from being gnawed on, but I can’t help it. I gasp as the tip of one finger slips in, meeting resistance, but pushing through. He works it in wide circles, loosening up my rim, then pushes the rest of his finger inside. He works it, pumping inside of my arse, as I let out of steady stream of whimpers and moans. He eventually works me enough that a second finger slides in as well, and at this point, I can barely wait anymore.

  
“Alright, that’s good. Stop. I’m ready,” I pant out, my forehead pressed against his forehead.

  
“I barely even stretched you, though. Are you sure?” he asks, panting nearly as hard as I am.

  
“I, uh, I like to feel a cock stretching me open the rest of the way,” and of all the things that have happened tonight, telling him that is what’s making me blush.

  
“Oh, yea. That’s, yea, that’s good,” and he looks astonished at that.

  
I press another kiss to his lips, and grab the condom from his chest, tear open the packet and throw the foil onto the floor. I slide back down his body, and undo his jeans, pulling his pants down with them.

  
I gasp as his cock is revealed, because I have truly never seen a dick this big, outside of porn. I grab hold of it at the base, and slide the condom down. I stand up briefly, and turn around.

  
“Where are you going?,” John asks, and maybe I’m imagining it, but he sounds a little panicked.

  
“Nowhere. Just thought you’d like to get a better view,” I say, straddling his thighs, facing away from him.

  
I reach a hand behind me, and take hold of his cock again, and Christ, it’s huge. John’s hands come to rest on my hips, and I listen to John gasp as I sink down slowly onto him. I can feel his cock stretching me further and it’s such a great pain, it takes my breath away for a moment. I’m going slow so I can feel as he stretches my hole, stretches my insides more to accommodate his cock. John’s hands roam from my hips, down over my arse cheeks and back up to curl around my hips again. I brace my hands on John’s knees, and lean forward a bit, giving John an even better view of his cock sliding into my arse. I lift up, and sink down again, working in rhythm with John’s slow, steady thrusts up.

  
“Hold on, Sherlock,” he says after a few minutes. “I want to touch you. Can I touch you?” And God, yes, I’m dying for it. I lift off of him, and he’s getting up, too. He swings his legs out from under me, and pushes me forward, so I’m now on my hands and knees, arse titled up in the air.

  
“Oh,” he groans out, “Oh, Sherlock, you are so beautiful,” and it’s hard to understand him, because he’s just groaning and looking right at my hole that’s stretched out from his cock. Not nearly soon enough, I can finally feel his body heat coming back toward me, and then it’s like heaven, and he’s sinking back into me.

  
His hands are gripping my waist so hard, his fingers are starting to grind into my ribs, and I’ve never been happier. He’s slamming into me now, his hips repeatedly knocking against my arse.

I can hear him above me, and he’s groaning and moaning and his voice is getting higher and I’m completely blissful in this moment because he’s just thrust into something that made me see stars.

  
“Oh, fuck, I’m so close. Right there, please don’t stop,” I beg, and I’m whispering because I can’t focus on making myself louder, but I know he hears me, because he responds, “Yea, right there?”

  
I choke on a breath because I can feel that familiar, fierce piercing in my lower body, and I’m so wound up, and feel so raw and delirious and then another moment I start to come, it’s spreading underneath my stomach, all over the couch, and I can hear John behind me crying out. “Oh, fuck, did you just come? Did you just— ah, ah, fuck,” he yells out, and then I can feel more heat into my arse and he’s coming inside the condom.

  
Panting behind me, sprawled across my back, John asks me, “Did you even touch yourself?”

  
“No,” I’m huffing and can’t seem to catch my breath, “no, not even once. I’ve never come like that before. That was amazing.”

  
“Yea, yea it was. God, you’re perfect” he says, and I would probably be blushing, but all blood is already at the surface of my skin, and I just feel so euphoric in this moment, as he rolls me over, and tucks his head under my chin. It’s just so easy to fall asleep in his soothing presence.

 

________

 

 

Luckily I remembered to set an alarm, because I need to be at work in twenty minutes. I quickly turn the alarm off, so it doesn’t wake John. I scrambled around in the scant lighting from the lightpole outside for my clothes. I get them on in record time, and feel a pang of regret at having to leave John. I leave quietly and make it to work just in time to open. I’m there for two hours when the next employee gets there, and lucky for that, because the 7am rush happens minutes after Molly walks in. Once the crowd is gone, Molly makes her way over to me and finally questions me about last night.

  
“So, how did it go last night? Didn’t you go get dinner John?” She asks, clearly genuinely interested in what happened. So, I decide to be completely honest with her.

  
“Yes, Molly. It went very well and I actually had to sneak out of his flat at 4 this morning to make it here to work on time.”

  
“Wait, you just left him at his flat? Just walked out on him? Did you leave a note, at least?” I shook my head no, and her jaw dropped.

  
“Leave! Go back. Bring breakfast in case he already woke up. You can’t just leave him alone. I’ll cover your shift. Go!” She was nearly yelling at my at this point, and really, this wasn’t even a bad idea. I grabbed a bag and got a croissant, scone, and muffin and filled up two to-go cups and made my way back to his flat.

  
I got in, and he was still asleep on the couch, so I set the bag and cups down, took off my shirt, and trousers, and wedged my way back under the covers. He snuffled a little, and burrowed further into my back.

  
“Mm, morning, Sherlock,” he breathed out, pressing a kiss to my head.

  
“Hope I didn’t wake you, John,” I said, leaning back into his embrace.

  
“Wake me? No, not at all. Just glad you’re here.”

  
“I’ve got breakfast and coffees. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got a few things.”

  
“When did you do that?,” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

  
“I, uh, I actually went to work already this morning.”

  
Sitting up, and looking around, John asked, “What? What time is it?”

  
I stood up, and made my way to the table where breakfast was, “I had a 4:30 shift this morning, but I can back here. It’s only 7:30. Here,” I said handing over the bag and a medium black coffee. He took a large gulp of the coffee, and there it was; that face of pure disgust.

  
“Uh, John, can I ask you something?” I took the lift of his eyebrows as a yes, so I continued “You’re really cute and you buy a cup of black coffee every morning but you make weird faces as you sip it and you never finish your drink. What’s up with that?”

  
“Oh, you, uh, you noticed that?,” and he’s blushing now. “It’s just that, all the doctors we see at Bart’s always have their coffee black, and I just feel like it makes me more mature. Makes me feel more like a doctor if I do it, too, but I bloody hate it. It’s vile.”

  
And I just can’t help it. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, and I burst out laughing, moments later John is joining in with me.

  
Finally calming enough to take a few deep breaths, I let him know that I don’t need to be at work for two more days.

  
“Perfect, just stay here with me, I’m sure I can keep you occupied,” he says smirking, but I can see just a hint of longing in his eyes.

  
“I’d like that, John, and I promise, I won’t tell anyone about your coffee secret.”


End file.
